Her Day
by Kailor Aurelius
Summary: A special day from Konoka's perspective. A one-shot.


**Kailor: This is another flash fiction piece that I'm thinking about submitting for publication. So review, review, review! Let me know what you think! If it suddenly disappears, that means it was accepted so feel happy for me! Ha! Told from Konoka's POV, so this is a first for me. . **

The hall was full of men and women in their best clothes, chatting and waiting for us to get ready. Groups gathered in the parking lot for one last cigarette. In the lobby were donuts and finger sandwiches. My grandpa was picking out the turkey sandwiches and trying to keep the young ones off the donuts. The old class 3-A was there, tissues close at hand. Rakan and Nagi were standing together, joking about the women. The kids chased each other around the pews, oblivious to the ceremony about to take place. Someone had taken a tri-fold poster board and pasted pictures over every inch of it. There were pictures of her and me and our friends. Pictures from our childhood, of her laughing at the T.V., of her asleep with her sword.

I was in another room, an offshoot of the hall. My father was fighting with the flower on my chest. It kept swinging around to point at my feet and he had already stabbed me multiple times trying to make it stay up. Finally, Takahata took it from him, ushering him to go and check on the others. "Are you nervous?" He smoothed my dress, fixing the draping skirts.

"No," I lied.

"It's okay to be nervous."

"I'm okay," I said, almost believing it myself.

But when the hall got quiet and they asked everyone to take their seats, I started to bounce. Asuna kept poking me, telling me to relax. Takahata lined us all up in the proper order, fussing over our clothes and hair. He kept checking his watch. Finally, he nodded to Yuna and she pulled open the double doors, locking each one in place.

Last in line, I stepped out and made the long march to the priest. My father walked beside me, his arm linked through mine. Everyone turned to watch as our progression passed. People I didn't know smiled at me. Nodded. People who looked like her, but darker skinned, taller. Her tribe, the one's that had kicked her out, here for this special day. Some reached out to touch my hands. Someone's kid smiled and waved at me. My old classmates all sat at the front, looking so different after all the years since high school, but all here. And there she was, waiting for us.

The rest of the procession took their places on either side of her. But I stopped at the end of the pews. She looked great. They'd done her hair the way I liked it, down and framing her soft cheeks. Her suit, simple as it was, fit her perfectly. It looked a lot like the one she wore to guard me during large gatherings. Then I realized it was the same suit. Her favorite. The one with the small tear in the left elbow.

And she was smiling. The way she did when she knew something I didn't, which was almost always. She had small jewels in her ears. Light pink on her lips. And she looked as beautiful as the day outside, where I remembered seeing little floods of sunlight pouring over jammed close cars and faded yellow lines. There was a tulip pinned to her jacket. The bright burst of red, yellow, and pink brushed her collar bone.

The priest nodded and my father let me go, kissed my cheek, and took a seat in the first row. I stepped to my place beside her. I took a deep breath. And I took one last long look at her before looking back to the priest. He nodded again and motioned to the younger man standing off to the side. He came forward and, as the music began to play, closed her coffin.

We pallbearers closed rank, each palming the cold bar that ran down the side of the box. The priest directed us to lift. Behind me, Asuna took a deep, rattling breath. Negi said something in an undertone to her. We lifted to waist height, then, with help from the two young men accompanying the priest, we lifted her onto our shoulders. In time to the piano solo filling the hall, we carried her back down the aisle.


End file.
